Waiting on an Enemy - A Fan Written Conclusion
by mugglerock
Summary: This is a fanfiction about a fanfiction. This is a proposed conclusion to OnigiriReject's fantastic, "Waiting on an Enemy." Which, has sadly been left in WiP limbo for almost four years. The original premise: Kyle is determined to earn enough money to live on his own in order to escape his home life, even if it means working as a waitress and serving Cartman every day. Kyman.
1. Tangled

**Waiting on an Enemy – Fan Assumed Conclusion**

**Disclaimer: **All characters referenced are the property of southparkstudios, Matt Stone, and Trey Parker. This is a work of fiction and no profit is being made.

**Warnings: **Nothing you wouldn't see on the show.

**Pairings: **primary: Kyle/Cartman ; minor: Stan/Wendy

**Author's Notes:** Like many of you, I got entranced by OnigiriReject's fanfiction, "Waiting on an Enemy." And, like many of you, the fanfiction's lack of updating in four years left me yearning to know the conclusion. Of my own accord (and peace of mind) I decided to finish it. I have attempted to contact the original author asking permission, of which I have had no response. Understand, if I ever hear from her and am requested to pull this fanfiction, I will do so.

In the interim, perhaps my rendition of an ending that could be for this story will help bring a little closure. I re-read the story multiple times, I have attempted to mimic the original author's writing style (while still keeping a little of my own style), characterizations, and assumed plot direction. I hope you enjoy it. I'm no OnigiriReject, but perhaps I'm a satisfying enough substitute.

The first portion of this fanfiction in italics is the last half of chapter 19 for OnigiriReject's story: Waiting on an Enemy. I can't get this site to let me hyperlink the story.

You will need to read these chapters (if you haven't already) for understanding and plot development. I literally wrote a fan-assumed conclusion.

So, here we go, fanfiction written about a fanfiction.

_Chapter 19 End Half of "Waiting on an Enemy" by OnigiriReject_

_/\/\/\_

_Angel Morte. The front bell rings. Customer. Mercedes shakes me and tells me it's my boyfriend. My fucking boyfriend. Mr. Eric. Before I know what I am doing, I autopilot and walk to his usual table. I sit down and stare directly in my lap. I know he's sitting across from me. I know he's staring at me. I know that look—that expectant, self-satisfied grin, that large hand holding a wad of money to give me._

_"Kylie, would you be so kind as to get me my coffee?" His voice says. His stupid fake politeness voice. I fucking hated it. I hate this. I hate being jerked around like this all for his fucking stupid little games._

_I hate this because in all the time I've been working toward having a future, he's been fucking his own up. He's been sitting there listening to me talk about my mom and how I want to do something with my life, and he doesn't have any sorts of feelings like that. Doesn't he have anything better in his life? Why would he do this?_

_"Kahl…?" he asks. I know my face is red. I'm so confused. I can't look at him. I just can't. I feel awful… I feel like I'm going to throw up all my organs. I feel like punching a wall. I feel like screaming. Why the fuck would he do something this stupid? This irresponsible? Just to make fun of me?_

_I've been working so hard to get a future away from my parents, and in the process he's just going to throw his away._

_I take a deep breath and say, "I don't want your money."_

_Pause. I still can't look at him. "What?"_

_I try again. "I can't take your money anymore…"_

_He laughs. He doesn't realize I'm being serious. "And why the fuck not?"_

_"I just can't take it anymore, Cartman," I say. It feels weird using that name while in this outfit._

_He scoffs again and crosses his arms. "Come on, Jew, money is money! I thought you of all people would understand that. Just take it." My heart literally hurts. I can't much more of this. "I can't."_

_"Why not?"_

_I bite my lip, "Where are you getting this money, Cartman?"_

_He rolls his eyes, "That's none of your business, Jew-rat."_

_"It's your college money, isn't it?" I ask. He stops and looks at me, his eyes widening._

_"How did you…" he begins to ask._

_"Why are you using your college money to pay for me?" I ask, my fists shaking. "Is making fun of me that great that you'll waste the money for your future on it?"_

_"That's not it," he says bluntly, leaning toward me. I back away slightly and just look at him._

_"I can't fucking believe you…" I shake my head. "Don't come here anymore. I don't want your money."_

_"You need it though," he points out smartly. My hands shake even harder._

_"I do, but not yours. Even I'm not going to sink as low as to steal the money your mom put in place for you-_

_"I don't want that whore's money," he says blatantly. I stand up._

_"Don't come back here…" I conclude, not looking at him. "Don't bother. I should have never accepted the money from you. I should have known you were up to something dirty."_

_I begin to walk away from him but he grasps my right wrist, "Wait, Kahl—_

_I spin around and before I think about it, I ball my other hand into a fist and make contact with the right side of his face. He let's go of my wrist and holds his face, cursing. I just look at him, my heart sinking further._

_He finally looks up and I can see the look of confusion in his eyes. Tears prick at my own, and I turn around without another word and walk to the backroom, my heels echoing throughout the restaurant. I'm sure the other waitresses are looking at me, but I could give a rat's ass._

_Tears begin to roll down my cheeks as I open the door to the backroom. Why do I care about him so much?_

_/\/\/\_

_"Bubbala it's so great to see you!"_

_"Hi Mom," I say, trying to feign a smile. My grip tightens around the handle of my bag as I stand outside my home, in front of my mother. She reaches her large arms outward and grasps me in a tight hug, holding the middle of my torso. _

_The top of her large Marge Simpson-esque hair tower hits my right ear. She let's go and looks me up and down, "It feels like it's been so long!" Why is she being so friendly? Wasn't she really mad at me about a week ago?_

_My father appears over her shoulder from the living room and smiles at me. "Kyle, how have you been? We haven't heard from you. We were getting worried."_

_"I wasn't even gone for a week," I say plainly. "And you knew where I was—just over at Stan's house."_

_They say nothing, and my mother ushers me into the house. "Now let's go inside, I made some kanishas," she smiles._

_"We need to talk about where you're heading in life, Kyle. Over dinner," my dad says, taking hold of my bag and placing it at the foot of the stairs._

_Just like it was before. I inwardly sigh and sit down at the dining room table, ready to hear all about how bad my decisions have been and how I won't be able to see my friends outside of school. I'm used to it by now. I'm going to quit my job, too, otherwise my mom will definitely find out about it and make me quit anyway. It's better to keep her from grounding me until I'm thirty, at least._

_It's time to give up the storybook fantasy of being able to escape. I mean… I'll be at college in two years, I won't even have to be home at all. I should just try and get along with my family the best I can… because they need me. I've been a selfish son._

_After this weekend, I'll quit my job at Angel Morte. I'll quit this stupid charade. It isn't worth it if I just keep getting lied to and tugged around by Cartman… I pout slightly as I lean back in my chair and close my eyes. I watch the grays and browns of the back of my eyelids._

_No more work. I can do all my homework and actually have a somewhat normal sleeping schedule. I can start having family meals again. Ike might even be able to visit some… It wasn't so bad before. I was just being melodramatic. We can be a family._

_Stan, Wendy and Kenny will just have to understand I can't see them as much anymore… my future is at stake. My mom has my best interests at heart._

_I'll say goodbye to everyone at Angel Morte this weekend. And hopefully, Cartman will never mention anything that happened there. It will just be our little secret. This whole ordeal can be forgotten. The back of my throat feels dry and I try to swallow._

_I'll see my friends at school. And I can properly ignore Cartman when he doesn't have some stupid deal hanging over my head. So… everything will turn out just how I wanted._

_My life will be normal again._

_That means… goodbye, Mr. Eric._

/\/\/\/\

It's been two days since I retreated back to my parents' house. Two days since I gave in to my own cowardice and retreated into the arms of familiarity. The arms that hug and then hit me. The arms of my mother. Not that she actually hits me, she just uses her words to hurt.

Despite her confusing kindness when I came home on Wednesday, she didn't change. I wasn't really surprised about that. She grounded me from all forms of social life, especially Eric. Fuck, when did I start calling him, 'Eric'? She grounded me from taking the driver's license exam. She deleted all of my contacts out of my phone and got the phone company to put this ridiculously extensive child lock on it, blocking all of my friends' numbers in the meantime. She grounded me from anything outside of the realm of studying and insists on weekly SAT prep with her. Thankfully, she didn't revoke my library privileges, so I can continue my shifts at Angel Morte through the weekend at least.

Kyle Broflovski may be many things; a perpetual liar, a coward, a fag, and a cross-dresser, but I refuse to be a job deserter. Mr. Yamamoto has been surprisingly understanding and, in his own way, helpful. The least he deserves is a little bit of notice that I won't be working there anymore.

I've somehow managed to avoid my friends at school. I sat away from them in all of our classes, and whenever one of them would try to corner me, I would make some excuse and run away, like the fucking coward I am. Wendy has been the most persistent, but it's easy to duck her, I just run into a boy's bathroom. The only one who wasn't trying to talk to me was Er-Cartman. Cartman, dammit.

I would sometimes find myself drifting off into a day dream while staring at Cartman. Imagining different scenarios in which our last encounter could have gone. The one that played the most was he and I falling into each other's arms, like some fucking gay ass chick flick. Fuck, finally realizing I'm gay and I have daydreams about my long-time enemy? There really is something wrong with me.

And that's what made me retreat. That's what I'm running away from. Not from the fact that I'm gay, who gives a fuck? It's the fact that out of every single male on this godforsaken planet, I develop feelings for Eric fucking Cartman. It couldn't be Thomas, right? Sweet, understanding, complimenting Thomas. Or Stan, my super best friend since forever, a guy who gets me on multiple levels? Or, hell, even Kenny. The guy was a walking stereotype, only caring about pussy and pot, but fuck, even _he_ would be a better choice than Eric Cartman.

Every time Cartman would catch me staring, my face would heat up and I'd immediately divert my gaze, before I could see the flurry of different emotions cross his face. The primary emotion being confusion. How much of a mindfuck would it be if I just told him I have feelings other than that of utter and complete detest and hatred? He'd be confused long enough for me to run away before he could hit me, or worse.

Sometimes I would catch Kenny staring at me. He appeared worried and something else. Something I couldn't quite figure out.

Another school day ended and I was walking through the halls. I'd gotten my shit from my locker and just as I was about to leave to take the long bus ride to my job, I realize I forgot something. As I turn the corner I see Kenny pushed up against the lockers by a very angry Cartman. He's got his arm against Kenny's collar bones, while his other hand is held at his side, ready to punch. I duck behind the side of the lockers, not really trying to eavesdrop, but not really being able to help myself.

"I swear to fucking god, you poor piece of shit, if you bring it up again, I will find a way to fucking kill you and make sure you stay dead!"

Even though I couldn't see them, I could imagine Kenny smirking in that shit-eating and smug way of his. "Awww, did I strike a nerve, _Mr. Eric_?"

There is a loud bang against the lockers that reverberates all the way down to where I was quietly trying to hide. Cartman either punched a locker or threw Kenny against them. "Fuck you!" Cartman hissed.

Kenny's tone changes, it's somber and more serious than I had ever heard him, "What the fuck are you so scared of, Eric? Why can't you just admit to yourself…"

"Shut the fuck up!"

"Seriously, denial isn't just a river in Egypt, man. Fuck, how can you keep trying to convince yourself that everything you do is just about some stupid and manipulative power trip? Does he even know what you did for him when the smug alert happened?"

That confuses the fuck out of me. What did he do? Other than throw me a shitty farewell party that I wasn't invited to?

"No, so fucking what?"

"If you really were on some power trip, wouldn't you have fucking bragged and held over him the fact that the reason he and his family are alive is because you fucking saved their asses?"

"Fuck you…" Is all I hear Cartman say, because I decided my math book be damned, I couldn't hang around and listen to the rest of it.

/\/\/\/\

I run the fuck out of there as fast as I can. Cartman saved me AND my family? Eric Cartman saved us from the smug storm? What the fuck is his deal? What is Kenny trying to get Eric to admit? Why the fuck do I keep calling him, 'Eric'? Millions of questions run through my mind as I get onto the bus heading towards the stop by Angel Morte. I was still in a trance and almost don't get off at the right stop. I duck into my usual alley and start to change, moving like an automaton. I wasn't really paying attention to my surroundings.

And that's when I hear a timid, "Ky-Kylie?"

FUCK. That voice was NOT someone who was in on my fucking secret. I turn, my dress only pulled halfway up, hair still covered by my green trapper hat. "Uh, Thomas, I can explain…"

He looks absolutely fucking shocked and a little disturbed. He couldn't stop from twitching and muttering a couple of obscenities. I'm really fucking stressing him out. "Yo-You're not a girl."

"I wasn't trying to deceive you, Thomas. I really needed this job and, well, I…"

"You let me kiss you…"

I feel myself get angry at that. Let him? I fucking let him kiss me? Like I had any fucking choice when he jumped on my face! "I told you I wasn't your type, I wasn't trying to fuck with you!"

He shakes his head in disbelief. He didn't look angry, just hurt and seriously confused. "I really liked you."

I sigh, "I know you did, Thomas. I'm sorry, I'm really sorry. I just needed a job and this was the only place hiring."

I finish pulling my dress on, remove my hat, and start tying the ribbons in my hair. He stares at me, apparently dumbfounded at how easily I transform from a boy to a girl. "A-Are you going to tell Mr. Yamamoto?" I ask timidly. The ball is in his court. I was going to give our boss my notice today, but that might not be necessary if Thomas rats me out.

He shakes his head. "I know I probably should, but you obviously must need the money if you're willing to dress like a girl, un-unless you're into that?"

I smile sadly, Thomas, ever the nice guy and firmly advocating for people's preferences. Despite just fucking his mind, he still didn't want to offend me, just in case I was trans or a legit cross-dresser. "Thank you, Thomas. Thank you."

He nods, turns, and heads towards the back entrance of Angel Morte. So, Cartman finds out I'm Kylie and uses it as a way to blackmail me, as a way to enlist a slave. Thomas finds out and is sweet and understanding about it. Why the fuck is it that it's Cartman I'm thinking about? Why can't I just be a normal gay dude and crush on nice guys? Fuck, tonight is going to be a long shift.


	2. Nothing Compares 2 U

After I finish putting on the lipstick and eyeliner, I sneak in through the back entrance. When I get to the locker area, I see Acura in there adjusting her stockings. She smiles at me, "Hey, Kylie."

"Hey," I reply halfheartedly. "Do you know if Mr. Yamamoto is here?"

Acura shakes her head, "No, I think he's off tonight. He should be here in the morning."

"Thanks," I say softly as I nod my head.

Wendy walks in at that moment and when we make eye contact, she makes a beeline for me. She grasps my arm gently and pulls me over to the corner to whisper, "What's going on, Kyle? Stan said you haven't been responding to his texts, we're all really worried…"

"I'm fine, I need to get to work…" I try to turn away from her and she clings on to my elbow.

"You aren't fine."

I sigh. "I just haven't been a good son. I need to focus on my studies and not have any distractions, that's why I'm going to give my notice to Mr. Yamamoto when I catch him."

Wendy gasps, "What are you talking about? Why do you…" She stops mid-sentence as if a light bulb has turned on, "It's your mother, isn't it? She's banning you from all of us, isn't she?"

"What does it matter? I don't really have any other options, do I?"

She practically screams, "Of course you do!"

I shush her, but her little outburst didn't appear to bother Acura, who is nose-deep in her phone. I shake my head, sadness starting to overwhelm me, "I can't keep doing this, Wendy. I just need to finish out my couple of years at home and then I can escape and not have to think about any of this stupid shit."

"Why can't you plan your escape with us in the picture?" She looks truly sad. My heart hurts a little for her, but mostly for myself. I never realized how much I came to appreciate our friendship over the last couple of months.

"I…"

Ferrari pokes her head in the locker room, "Kylie? You've been requested."

I nod at Ferrari and turn back to Wendy, "I have to go."

She smiles sadly but there's determination in her eyes. I have a feeling this conversation isn't over.

/\/\/\/\

I'm secretly panicking as I slowly make my way out to the dining area. My palms are sweaty, I feel like I'm going to have a heart attack. The last thing I need is to see Cartman. I don't think I can handle it. I was barely keeping my cool talking to Wendy. I don't want to see any of them.

When I get to the main area, I look around and I don't see anyone I know. I look at Ferrari, the confusion evident on my face. I raise an eyebrow, silently asking her who requested me. She points in the direction of a table filled with, I'm guessing, college guys. I've never seen them before, where the fuck did they get my name from to request me?

I approach the table and feign a smile. It probably looks like I'm in pain. I am, but I really shouldn't be showing that to the customers. I pull out my notepad and hold my pencil at the ready. "How may I help you, sirs?" I cringe inwardly at having to refer to any of them as 'sir'.

The obvious leader of the group, a scummy looking guy with his dark brown hair down to his shoulders, tied back in a douchebag pony tail, smirks at me. He winks before grasping my hand gently, "And you are?"

I have to refrain from rolling my eyes as I pull my hand back, "Don't you already know it? You did request me…"

The entire group of guys laugh, it almost makes me shudder from disgust and dread. Their laughter is anything but jovial. Head douchebag grins as he replies, "We just requested the red headed waitress. My friends mentioned seeing you at the club now and then, and I had to meet the fiery little thing that has all my boys acting kind of retarded."

I examine the guys again and suddenly it dawns on me. The guy in the middle, his sandy blond hair, he got kicked out of here when I first started working at Angel Morte. He tried to grab me, ripped my dress, and I slapped him. That was the first time Cartman intervened to protect me.

"I'm sorry, sirs. You have me confused with someone else. So, have you decided on what you would like?"

The lead douchebag smirks, "Are you on the menu?"

I feel a chill travel down my spine. I'm having a strong sense of déjà vu. Before I could answer, I hear a voice from behind me say, "No, she isn't…"

I turn around and see Cartman, practically seething as he stares down the dumb group of teens. I've never been more grateful to see any person in my life than at that moment. I'm staring at him, a wave of different emotions stifling me, it's almost difficult to breathe.

"Who the fuck are you?" Lead douchebag asks.

"That's the fucker that attacked me and got me kicked out a while back!" The sandy haired asshole proclaims.

The leader gets out of their booth and starts rolling up his sleeves, "Is that right?"

I can't take my eyes off of Cartman, as he rolls his own sleeves up and practically snarls, "Goddamn right it is. You fucks better get out of here before I do it again." He gently pushes me aside and gets into the douchebag's face, "I'll be nice if you losers fuck off quietly."

The group of them start laughing as the rest of them get out of the booth. There are four of them, each of them comparable in size to Cartman. The one to the right of the douchebag, a black haired teen with braces, scoffs defiantly, "You really think you can take on all four of us?"

"Maybe not, but I doubt you can take on all of us…"

I turn to see who said that. From the entrance of the restaurant Stan is standing there with Kenny. Stan is very intimidating - his larger build alone, thanks to years of playing football and lifting weights, is scary. Pair that with the look on his face at this moment, he's pretty damn terrifying.

Out of the back a bouncer approaches them all, "What's going on here?"

The lead douchebag, never taking his eyes off of Cartman, replies, "Nothing."

Terry, he's one of our best bouncers. He's about 6 foot 8 inches, with a build that would make Lou Ferrigno jealous. He crosses his arms over his chest, "Good, 'cuz I got no problem kickin' all your stupid asses outta here."

The lead douchebag scoffs and grabs his coat, "Let's get out of here, suddenly I'm not hungry." As the group of them start to walk out, douchebag leans near Cartman and hisses, "Your girl doesn't have tits, she's probably a shitty lay."

Before I could stop him, Cartman narrows his eyes and socks the guy right in his jaw. There's a sickening crunch, I'm pretty sure his jaw is broken. He wails in pain and there's blood everywhere. The other three guys run to his aid, each of them screaming, "What the fuck, man?!"

Terry grabs Cartman roughly by the arm and escorts him outside. Stan and Kenny stand by in case the rest of the dumbfucks decide they want to retaliate. They, thankfully, grab their friend and run him outside to a car and drive off, probably to take him to a hospital.

Everyone in the restaurant is staring at me. I'm standing there, feeling overwhelmed and confused. When Stan approaches me and asks if I'm okay, I can't handle it anymore. I feel my eyes start to fill with tears, I shake my head at him before running to the back and out of the exit.

/\/\/\/\

I'm sobbing. I haven't fucking sobbed in, hell, I can't even remember. I'm leaning against the wall to the restaurant in the alley. I'm doing what I can to stop myself from hyperventilating and going into a full-fledged panic attack.

"What the hell are you crying over, Jew?"

I laugh bitterly through my tears. Of fucking course Cartman catches me as I break down.

"Fu-fuck off, fatass."

He smirks as he approaches me, "I'm not fat."

I wipe the tears away and stand to face him, "Anymore…" As we look into each other's' eyes, my heart starts to drum loudly, I tingle with a buzzing electricity and my head starts to swim. I have to avert my gaze. I can't handle it. I can't handle him.

I feel his fingers on my chin and he gently lifts my head up. As our eyes connect he whispers, "Don't cry, little Jew."

I feel angry and excited all at once. I don't understand him, what the fuck is his deal? He's fucking bipolar and confusing and stupid and, ugh! "Goddamn you, you fucking asshole."

I start walking away from him when he grabs me and turns me back to him, "Hey! What the fuck is your problem?!"

I wrench myself out of his hold, "What the fuck is YOURS? You don't make any fucking sense Eric Cartman. And you are NEVER fucking honest with me, so why the fuck should I even have to answer your questions?" I stand there with my arms crossed against my chest.

"Don't get all high and fucking mighty with me, Jew. You're one to talk, alright? I don't have to answer to you!"

"Yes you fucking do! You need to be honest with me, right here, right now. I fucking promise you, you won't get another fucking chance after this. So tell me, what the fuck was all of this for? Why me? Why the fuck do you have this sadistic streak with me? And then, to fuck with me even more, I find out that you have been secretly saving me AND my family for god knows how fucking long?"

He looks shocked at that revelation, "How did you…"

"Because I overheard Kenny fucking remind you. You saved me and my entire family, Eric! Who does something like that and then continues to treat me like a piece of shit? Getting off on all of the mental torture you can inflict on me? Why? What the fuck is the point? Why bother saving me in the first place?"

He looks at me, defiance brimming every word, "I just wanted to make sure you're still around to fuck with…"

I push him up against the wall. Even though he's bigger and stronger than me, he probably could have easily stood against the shove, but he lets it happen. "Bullshit! You're gunning for something, and I am not giving up until I find out what it is!"

"I already told…"

"Fuck you! Stop bullshitting!" I glare at him and push him a little further into the wall before taking a step back. I enunciate the next few words slowly and precisely, "What… Do you… Want?"

"Like I said…"

I slap him. He stares at me, dumbfounded and holding his cheek. I grab his shoulders and shake him slightly. "What do you want, Eric?!" I yell, louder than I had meant to.

He shoves me away before crying out, "You!"

I stare at him. Did he just say what I think he said? "M-Me?"

There are tears in his eyes. I'm shocked, I'm exhilarated, I'm terrified. What does this mean? Before I could ask him a million more questions, he runs off. I attempt to chase after him but the goddamn heels hinder me as I fall on the slippery concrete. "Eric!" He doesn't turn back, he doesn't stop; he just runs faster than I have ever seen him run.

I can't bring myself to stand up after the fall. I crawl towards the wall and sit up against it, on the cold wet ground, my knees pulled against my chest. I'm sniffling, whether from the cold or the overwhelming emotions and revelations, I'm not sure. That's how Wendy finds me.

"Kyle?"

I look up at her and just start crying again. She leans down and hugs me briefly. After patting my back she stands straight and offers her hand to help me up. "Come on, let's get you inside," she says quietly. I let her pull me up and she wraps an arm around me to guide me back inside. She rubs my back, in a consoling way. If I didn't feel absolutely wretched and utterly confused, it might have worked.

This fucking day probably couldn't get any worse.

/\/\/\/\

Kenny, Stan, and Wendy are all sat around me in a booth in the corner of the restaurant. Out of sight and hearing from the other patrons and waitresses. Thankfully, it's still an hour until the Friday night rush.

"What happened?" Kenny asks, for once without any kind of self-satisfied tone.

I shake my head. I'm not ready to talk about it. I can't. My brain isn't ready to process any of this.

Stan rubs my shoulder gently as he changes the subject, "Why haven't you been responding to my texts?"

I lower my head into my hands and sigh. "My mom blocked all of your numbers from my phone. She thinks you guys are distracting me from my responsibilities and my duties as a good son."

I can feel Stan stiffen in aggravation, "You have GOT to get the hell out of there."

I look up. "How can I? I don't have any other choice!"

"What about emancipation?" We all turn to see Thomas standing in front of our table.

"Emancipation?" Kenny asks.

He shrugs and grabs a nearby chair to pull it up to the table. He twitches and swears softly before sitting down to continue, "My mom got to a breaking point with my Tourette's. She was, I don't know, just too fucked up over it. She couldn't find a man that could deal with me after my dad left. It really got to her. She started abusing her pain meds. She was barely alive. So, I got a job, found a place to live, and got emancipated. I've legally been on my own for, I guess, about six months now? She's been doing better since. She's gotten clean and has even been seeing a pretty nice guy." Thomas smiles sadly. "She's a lot better off without the stress of me and my condition, and I've been managing pretty well. It was the right thing to do."

Wendy turns to Thomas, "I'm so sorry, Thomas. That must have been hard. But, and no offense, you don't really know Kylie's situation well enough to suggest something like that…"

"I know her home life is bad enough that she dresses in drag for a job…"

Wendy gasps and I nod, "Yeah, Thomas knows." I turn to the blond boy, "Do you think I can? What would I need to do?"

He smiles and starts explaining the logistics. I feel myself smile for the first time since all of this bullshit came to a head.


	3. Somebody That I Used to Know

I'm able to get out of my shift for the rest of the night, the girls all told me they would let Mr. Yamamoto know I went home sick. Stan and Kenny agree to take me back to my house. Wendy wants to come, but she couldn't get out of her shift, too. It would leave them with only two waitresses on a Friday night.

I change in the car on the way to my house. Kenny and Stan are tagging along for moral support. Kenny keeps making inappropriate comments about nice girls not getting naked in back seats of cars. I flip him off.

Stan smacks Kenny upside the head and then eyes me through the rear view mirror. "You know you can stay with us until you find your own place? My parents love you, and since you already have a job, I can't see why you couldn't get emancipated, like, tomorrow, dude!" Stan cannot contain his excitement, it was evident in his tone.

I chuckle, "While I don't think that's possible, I get what you mean."

"So, what's the plan? Run in, grab your shit, and yell, 'peace out, cunts!', before running out the door?" Kenny asks.

I laugh. Fuck, it feels so good to laugh. "No, I want to sit them both down and talk to them. If you two could maybe run up to my room and get as much of my shit together while I tell them?"

They both nod. I let out a sigh. "Alright, let's get this over with."

Kenny throws his hands in the air and yells, "Woo hoo!"

I smile. Thankfully, some things never change.

/\/\/\/\

"Bubbala! What are you doing home so early?" Her cheery tone and smile fades the instant she sees Kenny and Stan standing behind me. Her voice deepens in her anger, "You had told me you were going to the library."

I turn to the guys and nod. They start going up the stairs.

"Just where do you boys think you're going?!"

I raise my hand to halt her from getting up from the dining table. I approach her and sigh. "Mom, I lied. I need to talk to you and dad. Where is he?"

Before she is able to fly off the handle about my lying, my dad emerges from the kitchen, wearing an apron, "What's up, son?"

I smile sadly, "Dad, could you sit down? I need to talk to you and mom."

A look of concern is evident on his face, but my mom is still seething with absolute rage. I take a deep breath and concentrate on looking at my father. "I'm leaving. I'm going to stay at the Marsh's until I can find a place of my own…"

"What-What-What?!"

My dad grasps my mom's hand in a vain attempt to calm her. He turns back to me and asks, "What do you mean, son?"

"Just that. I'm going to go live on my own."

"You can't!" My mother sneers, a triumphant look on her face, "You aren't 18! You're still in high school!"

I sigh, "I can. I'm going to get emancipated."

"You can't get emancipated unless you can prove you're self-sufficient! You have to do adult things, like hold a job and pay rent! Tell him, Gerald!"

My dad nods solemnly, "She's right, Kyle."

I nod, concurring and showing them I'm well aware. "I know, I've had a job for the past few months, that's where I've been going when I told you I was going to the library. I wasn't lying to cover up the fact that I was hanging out with friends, it was to hide the fact that I've been working."

My dad sighs, "Why, Kyle? You get an allowance."

I smile sadly, "I was working to save up as much money as I could to put myself through college. I... I didn't want to have to rely on you and mom for it."

My mom stands up and knocks the chair she was sitting in over, "You've been lying to us all this time, and you think a judge will grant you emancipation?!"

I nod, trying to keep calm. My blood is boiling, but I can't let her win by causing me to lash out. I need to stay calm, collected. I barely flinched when she knocked the chair over. That's a good sign. "A judge will, when I explain that I'm emotionally abused and am better off away from this house."

"What-What-What?!"

My dad stands up and holds my mother. "Sheila, calm down!"

She snarls at my father, "Calm down? How dare you!" She then turns to me, "And how dare _you_, too! Emotionally abused? You ungrateful and wretched child. All I do is try to help you, make sure you have everything you need to prepare for a future and you're throwing it all away because of some, misbegotten teenage angst? You are grounded! Go to your room and think about this stress you are putting on me, your loving mother!"

My blood boils to a breaking point. "How can you even call yourself that? You've been nothing but cruel and awful to me since Ike left!" So much for staying calm. "All you do is belittle me, punish me for no reason, and compare me to Ike. You constantly make me feel like I'm worthless, unless I get a perfect score or better! I was 90 points shy of a perfect SAT, the highest score in my entire class, and it _still _wasn't good enough! Because Ike had a perfect score, I wasn't trying hard enough? I didn't give a damn about my future? It's all you let me think about, instead of letting me find my own way! Even though I totally isolated myself and alienated my friends for over a year to get these perfect grades for you! I was miserable. I was _dying_, but you didn't give a shit!" I take a calming breath and continue in a quieter tone, "I'm leaving. I'm leaving tonight. I hope you both can find it in your hearts someday to forgive me and understand why I needed to do this."

I turn away from them just as Stan and Kenny are coming down the stairs, carrying a couple of boxes and random bags filled with my stuff.

As we walk towards the door, my mother screeches, "Don't you ever come back here! You are no longer my child. If you walk out that door, you are no longer my child! You are not to ever come back here, no matter how broke or homeless, or whatever you are!"

I look at my dad in that moment. He looks like he wants to disagree, beg me to reconsider, I'm not sure. He just looks so sad, but as usual, he doesn't say a word.

I nod and walk out of the front door. Feeling free and sad all at once.

/\/\/\/\

"I can't believe you stood up to her like that!" Stan was practically giddy with pride and satisfaction. His grin was contagious and I share a smile with him. We quickly load the car, and Kenny and Stan start to get into it. I stop and look up toward Eric's house.

Kenny rolls down his window in the back passenger seat. "Kyle?"

Stan leans across the driver's seat to the window I was standing in front of. "What are you doing?" He asks.

I look at Stan and then turn to Kenny, "I have some unfinished business."

Kenny's smile could have lit up the darkest black hole. He nods his understanding and turns to Stan, "Come on, we'll take Kyle's stuff back to your place."

Stan looks utterly confused, "Bu-what?"

Kenny smirks, "I'll explain it to you on the way."


	4. Can't Stop

I have been standing on the Cartman's porch for a good five minutes, staring at the door. I am beyond nervous, terrified, petrified, anxious, whatever other synonym for scared-shitless there was in existence. I had just stood up to my heinous bitch of a mother, was practically disowned, have to face the reality of surviving on my own; and knocking on Eric Cartman's door was more terrifying than all of that.

I know I need answers. We both do. I need to give him the same, albeit brief, honesty he gave me just over an hour and a half ago. Fuck, had it really only been that amount of time? It felt like much longer. I let out an audible sigh. I just need to give in.

I raise my hand and knock on his door. At first it doesn't seem like he might be home. There's no response for a couple of minutes and no sound. I turn to start a slow and contemplative trek to Stan's house when I hear the door open. I stop and turn back.

"Kyle?"

You could have knocked me over with a feather after that. He said my name. He said my name properly.

He eyes me suspiciously, "What are you doing here, Jew?"

I feel my breathing hitch. I can't do this. I can't face this. I'm still a fucking coward. I was just running on an adrenaline high from finally standing up to my mother. I shake my head and start to back away slowly, "Th-This was a bad idea. I'm just gonna…" I turn away and start walking toward the street.

He catches me and grabs my arms to turn me to face him. "Why are you here?" His tone is so sincerely curious, my heart almost breaks.

"I… I…" I'm fucking stammering like an idiot because Eric Cartman turns me into a raging retard. "I don't know, I'm sorry. I'll leave."

His grasp on my arms hinders me from getting away. He doesn't let up. "Just answer the question, Jew." There's no bite, there's no venom. He sounds resigned and sad.

"I can't!" I practically scream.

He finally looks annoyed and raises his voice, "Why the fuck not?"

"Because I'm scared!" Fuck, did I say that out loud?

He lets go of my arm and just stares at me. "Scared of what?"

I sigh, "I… I'm just scared."

He scoffs at me, "You don't fucking know what scared is." He shakes his head at me and starts walking back towards his front door. "Go home, Jew."

I feel my fists tighten. How dare he just turn away from me. I know I'm not being very forthcoming, but fuck! I'm trying here. I sigh and take the plunge. "I'm fucking terrified to let myself feel the way I do!" I yell after his retreating back.

He instantly halts, but doesn't turn around.

I take that as my queue to continue, "You fucking terrify me you, dumbfuck." I sigh and rake my fingers through my hair. "I wish you'd never figured out I was Kylie."

I turn my back to his back. Fuck him. I don't know what I was thinking. I decide I need to just not bother. I start to walk away when I feel him grasp my elbow.

He turns me to face him. "What do you mean?" His tone is eerily calm.

I shy away from his intense stare. I focus on his dirty tennis shoes. This is it. This is the moment to just give up all of my control to Eric Cartman of all people! Well, what did I really have to lose anyway? I officially no longer have a mother, I'm technically homeless, and my only salvation is a job where I'm dressed as a scantily clad waitress in a Hooters knock-off that is literally one step away from being a goddamn brothel. What more harm could giving into the reality of what I'm feeling for the boy in front of me do? I try to take a calming breath, but my shuddering from the overwhelming sensation of all of these thoughts and feelings flowing through me causes me to emit a soft moan. I shake my head and finally take the leap. I look up.

I've never seen that look in his eyes. I think it might be desperation and, is that hopefulness? Just when I think I'm brave enough to keep going, we make eye contact and I can't handle it. I can't take the intensity and divert my gaze back down to his shoes. I take a deep breath.

"Because you treated me better when I was Kylie. You were protective, and kind, and fuck. I don't know. You treated me like I was a person! Before you found out, I feel like I was really starting to get to know the real you. Not the version you project to keep, I don't know, your real feelings hidden. You were letting me under your protective layer. I wasn't dressed that way to deceive you, but I couldn't tell you. For fear of, well, exactly what you ended up doing. And then I was finding out these things about you. I don't know, it was kind of nice. It was at that point where my feelings for you started to change. I just didn't realize it at the time…"

"Yo-Your feelings for me?"

I chuckle sadly. I made Eric Cartman stammer. I shake my head, still keeping my head down, "I don't understand them much myself. Since the point where they started morphing into something else, where the gears started to shift in the train wreck of a relationship that you and I have, I don't know. I started fucking feeling things. Feelings other than hatred. I can't stop thinking about you. I don't think I've hated you for a long time."

Eric lifts his hand to my chin, very gently prodding me to look up. When I can't bring myself to oblige him, he lowers his head to meet my gaze. His eyes are shimmering, just like earlier. There's a buildup of tears again but he's not running away this time. "What are you trying to say, Kyle?"

I'm frozen. He said my name correctly again. I'm so shocked I can't breathe properly. His eyes, despite the watery buildup, are dancing. There's a glimmer of, I don't know, but I can practically feel it. I can't speak, I feel dizzy. My lungs restrict like I'm drowning.

"Kyle?" He urges gently.

The softness of his voice. Our overwhelming closeness. I'm less than four inches from his face. I can't take it anymore. Before I realize it, I twist my hand into the front of his shirt and yank him forward, crushing my lips against his. As I am closing my eyes, I notice his eyes grow larger in shock. Then nothing but blackness and this insane buzzing. This electricity funneling throughout my body from his lips.

I brace myself to be pushed away, punched, something. Instead he grasps my face and starts kissing me back. I gasp and he takes the opportunity to slide his tongue into my mouth. The heat sears, in a truly pleasant way. I hum contentedly as I return the kiss with as much fervor as I possess. I'm not very experienced and I hope it doesn't show, but I can't help but feel, well, complete. In this moment, kissing Eric fucking Cartman, I have never felt more alive.

I don't know how long we stood there with our mouths exploring each other, minutes, hours, days? I was finally kissing Eric and not as some sort of ruse. I knew it had to end though. We still had too much left to say. I flatten my hands against his chest and gently push him away.

His lips are red and a little swollen. He pants softly and we make eye contact for the first time since I attacked his lips. He looks into my eyes, a desperate and searching scrutiny. "You never answered my question, Jew."

I laugh. I can't stop myself. He's still the same and for some reason? That seems to be okay. The reality of the fact that I have feelings for Eric Cartman is still hovering over us. I frown, my face reflecting just how serious this is. "I'm terrified of what it means to not hate you any longer. Especially since you treat me like shit most of the time. Except when I was Kylie. You were mostly nice to me when you thought I was a girl. So, while a part of me wishes you never found out Kylie and Kyle are the same person, a part of me wishes I never became her in the first place."

He looks a little taken aback by that confession, "Why?"

I can't stop the tear from escaping as my heart flip flops back and forth between adoring the boy in front of me and recalling everything he's ever put me through. I want to run away again, but I persevere. "Because, maybe I never would have gotten the glimpse of how you could treat me and gotten my hopes up…"

His face is the picture of cool and collected, but his eyes give him away. There's a gamut of different emotions running through those dark brown irises. I truly expected him to be smirking or mock me, but he just looks sad.

"Do you know why I got so angry when I found out you were Kylie?"

I'd had many theories, primarily tied to the fact that he was angry and thought I was trying to dupe him into thinking I was a girl. The look in his eyes right now? The exact opposite of that theory. I silently shake my head to answer him.

He steps back from me a little. We are still touching, but he was giving himself a little distance. He rakes his hand through his hair and sighs. His gaze never wavering. Maybe to prove how honest he was trying to be?

"Kylie was the first girl I felt attracted to."

I am shocked and a little confused. What about Wendy? Patty Nelson?

As if he can read my mind, he continues, "My crushes on Patty and Wendy when we were younger? Just childhood infatuations. I don't even think I knew what it meant to be attracted to someone at that age. So as we got older and hit puberty and all the stupid bullshit that comes with it? I never felt attracted to anyone, well, except for one person. This infatuation, this real fucking attraction? I've been denying and ashamed of for years…"

I gently grasp his arm, quirking my left brow to silently ask him 'who?'

He looks down at my hand on his arm and slowly lifts his head up again. The tears in his eyes start to fall down his face. "It eats away at me so badly. I started acting like the biggest asshole as I could. Unimaginable cruelty and manipulation. And every fucking time I think I can bring myself to stop? I get freaked out and start acting like an even bigger asshole. I figured, shit, if I act the exact opposite of how I feel, then I could convince the world _and_ myself that I _did _hate him…"

I gasp softly, "Him?" Fuck, I didn't mean to say that out loud. I think he's being serious. Being called a 'fag' seems to be a really big deal to Eric. Is he saying what I think he's saying?

Eric chuckles mirthlessly and can no longer keep eye contact with me. He turns around fully, keeping his back to me. He takes a deep breath and quietly says, "And then I fucking find out the first girl I'm attracted to, the first girl who made me feel like maybe there isn't something fucking wrong with me; this girl turns out to be the same person I've been trying to kill my feelings for, for years!"

I grasp Eric's forearm to gently nudge him into turning back around, "Eric?"

The look on his face when I call him, 'Eric' is a mixture of pain and elation. Apparently, me saying his name has the same affect on him as him saying my name. He sniffles, "When did you start calling me, 'Eric'?"

I shrug, "I don't really know…"

He still can't look up to meet my gaze. His whole body shudders as he lets out a quiet cry. "I hate myself for loving you."

Even though I had a feeling that's where he was going with this, I still wasn't prepared to hear him say those words. To tell me he loves me. To tell the sneaky, greedy, kike that he loves him. I search his face for any traces of a joke. What little I see of his face, that isn't obscured by him keeping his head ducked down, is entirely serious. I can see the traces of wetness from his crying. He has finally let go. He let his tears fall like he thinks I'm going to start laughing at him. Like when I found out he was HIV positive when we were kids.

Little does he know that that is the furthest thing from my mind. The icicles that would usually form in my chest whenever I was in his proximity are gone. Instead my heart is doing this weird, fluttering and flipping. I'm filled with warmth, despite the fact it's very fucking cold outside and I'm not wearing my hat.

"You love me?"

He half sniffles and half scoffs, "Fuck you, Kyle." He shakes my hand from his arm and starts walking back to his front door.

Goddamnit. Just when we're starting to get somewhere! Why the fuck does he keep doing this? "Wait a fucking minute! Where the fuck are you going?"

"As far a-fucking-way from you as possible!"

I go after him and overtake his pace to step in front of him. I press my hands gently against his chest to stop him. "Why do you do this? Are you that fucking scared? Scared to hear what I have to say?"

He narrows his eyes at me, "I already fucking know what you're going to say. You're going to say, 'ummm, well, OH EM GEE, I don't feel the same but maybe we could still be friends? Save it. I don't want to fucking hear it."

I twist my hand into his shirt again and glare at him. I let out a frustrated sigh, "Why the _fuck _would I kiss someone I only want to be friends with?!"

He looks truly perplexed at this and responds, a little incoherently, "Uh, but…"

I sigh in exasperation and stop him from finishing his sentence with my lips. He sighs and closes his eyes as I do. I deepen the kiss. Just as I start to feel my legs start to wobble, I pull away. I look up into his eyes, I think this is the first time I appreciate our height difference.

He smiles and lets out a soft laugh. "So, you weren't going to give me some faggy friendzone speech?"

I roll my eyes, "Isn't it more faggy to not want me to give you that speech?"

Eric chuckles and shoves me gently, "Fuck off, fag."

I grab his shirt and pull him to me. I lean in close to his lips. I poke my tongue out and softly lick along his bottom lip. He lets out a groan. I smirk and pull away. "Who's the fag now?"

He laughs, "Only for you, Jew. Only for you." He pulls me against him and kisses me before I can make any snide comments.


	5. Ever Fallen In Love?

**ONE YEAR LATER**

I'm leaning against this beaten up second hand dresser I got at a flea market. It's a hideous orange color, but it does the job. I'm in my small studio apartment that I've lived in for the past ten months. I only ended up living with the Marsh family for a month and a half before I finally found the perfect (and affordable) place. It's just above a little bar on the edge of town. I'm a four minute walk from Angel Morte.

Yes, I still work at Angel Morte as a 'waitress'. About a week after I left my parent's house for good, I decided to come clean with Mr. Yamamoto. I was terrified that I'd eventually be caught and get fired, which would not help with my emancipation case. I figured I could either get him to put me somewhere else in the restaurant, if he wasn't too pissed over the fact I was not a girl. Or, I would get fired and could start the hunt for a new job.

_~Almost 12 months earlier~_

_I poke my head into Mr. Yamamoto's office. "Sir?" I ask timidly._

_He smiles at me and waves me to come in; he is on a phone call. I take a seat and wait for a very short time as he ends his call. "What can I do for you, Kylie?"_

_I decide to talk in my normal voice, "Mr. Yamamoto. You've been so good to me since I first started working here. I'm in the process of getting emancipated from my parents, so I needed to get something off my chest."_

_He eyes me curiously._

_I sigh, "I'm not a girl."_

_He looks confused, trying to figure out exactly what my meaning is. "I'm not following…"_

_"I'm a boy. I've been dressing like a girl so you would hire me and keep me, I guess."_

_He looks at me with a calculating gaze. He stands up and approaches me. As I start to fidget in my nervousness, he gently tugs on my hair. I'm thinking it's to see if my hair is real or not._

_He sits back down, nodding with an almost impressed smile. "Huh. You're pretty damn convincing."_

_I let out a nervous chuckle. "You don't seem very upset…"_

_He fully smiles at me, "Hey, honestly, you're a pretty good waitress, and what the customers don't know won't hurt them. Thank you for being honest with me, Kylie. Or… Err, what should I call you?"_

_I let out a sigh of relief. "Kylie is fine, if that's what you prefer, but my real name is Kyle."_

_He starts looking through the drawers in his desk and pulls out some papers. He hands them to me, "These are blank applications and new hire paperwork. Go ahead and fill them out with your accurate information so you can get the credit for all of your hard work. If you're really going to get emancipated, you'll need proof of employment."_

_I bobble my head, completely dumbfounded. I take the paperwork from him, "So, I'm not fired?"_

_He laughs, "Of course not! I don't discriminate!"_

_I smile. I never felt more grateful to this man than at this moment. "Thank you, so much. You're the best boss."_

_He waves me off and I start to leave the office when he calls out, "Kylie?"_

_I turn back, "Yes?"_

_He smiles, "If you need anything, please let me know."_

_I return his smile, "Thank you, Mr. Yamamoto."_

~Present~

So, that's why, a year later I'm still applying mascara and lipstick while dressed in my dark angel dress. There was a small mirror I had hung precariously over my dresser, I was leaning awkwardly forward trying to apply the mascara in the poor lighting.

"Where'd you put your ashtray?" Eric bellows out from my little kitchen area.

Yes, Eric Cartman. My boyfriend. He and I have been dating for, well, about as long as I've been living here. Despite where we were a year ago, it took us almost two months to work out all of our bullshit issues and finally admit that we should just date. It was this stupid roller coaster of emotions, fights, and sneaky make out sessions.

"Goddamnit, asshole, you told me you quit!" I sigh. He would go a pretty long time without smoking and then randomly, he'll buy a pack and I have to think of creative ways to convince him to stop.

Eric ducks his head out past the little wall divider to grin at me. His eyes grew larger as he looked me up and down. I roll my eyes. He liked seeing me in my Angel Morte outfit. It was yet another facet of the weird relationship we have. Despite the fact that he loves me, he has a weird kinky thing for 'Kylie'.

Eric shakes his head, "No fair starting fights with me when you're dressed like that."

I smirk, "Shut the fuck up. Seriously, what happened to quitting?"

Eric smiles. He disappears for a moment and comes back out. As he walks toward me, I notice he is holding a large envelope. He hands it to me.

"What is this?" I ask, not even bothering to look at it.

"It's the letter from that hippie fag school in Oregon."

I roll my eyes. "And that means you can smoke because?"

Eric's face changes. He appears very serious as he says, "Because it means whether or not this," he waves his hand pointing to himself and then me, "Us. If we, you know, end."

My heart hurts a little. This issue has been a source of contention between us. I asked him to go with me. Even if he had no intention of going to college, which he doesn't, that doesn't mean he can't find a job somewhere so we could continue to start a life together. He thinks it's too fast for the two of us. I could care less. I spent most of my life up to this point terrified of taking leaps and walking through life like a robot. I wanted to take the risk.

I grasp his hand and hold it. I take the envelope and place it on top of the dresser. "I don't understand why you won't just come with me?"

Eric sighs. "Same reason I wouldn't move in with you when you got emancipated a few months ago. We're too young with too much of a fucked up history to make living together while dating even seem like it's remotely a good idea."

I smile and quirk my brow, "Not even if that meant we got to fuck as often as we want if we live together?"

"Don't even try to bribe me with sex!" The heat in his face darkens his complexion; it's a delightful red shade.

I pout playfully and gently shove him onto the bed. I straddle Eric's waist and lean over him. "Really? The prospect of regular sex with me isn't even slightly enticing?" I press myself against my boyfriend's chest and gently grind my hips against his. I breathe over his lips, "Not even a tiny bit?" I ask in my 'Kylie' voice.

Eric growls and flips us over, reversing our positions. He chuckles, "I'll have to think about it…"

I smile, "You should."

I weave my right hand into Eric's hair. He groans in pleasure before leaning in to kiss me.

/\/\/\/\

What Kyle didn't know was that Eric had already been packed for a couple of weeks. Ready to follow his boyfriend down whatever path college was going to take him. He just wasn't about to tell Kyle that.

And they lived happily, gay-ass chick flicky ever after.

* * *

The End.

**Author's Notes: **Again, this was my proposed conclusion to how, "Waiting on an Enemy" could end. This is in no-way the original author's intended ending, as far as I know. This was my own way of helping me cope with not knowing an ending and I decided, what the hell? Why not share it?

This is my first fanfiction for Southpark, this is not my first fanfiction though.

The original characters and the renditions of the characters belong to OnigiriReject as well as the plot. The only part that's mine is my writing style (although I did try to mimic the original author's) and my inability to drag out stories or write angst. I needed the happy ending already. Thank you for reading.


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